


Friday Night Might

by hbomba



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Fridget, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, PWP, Post-Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29042328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hbomba/pseuds/hbomba
Summary: After an awful week, Franky and Bridget recoup together.
Relationships: Franky Doyle & Bridget Westfall, Franky Doyle/Bridget Westfall
Comments: 24
Kudos: 59





	Friday Night Might

**Author's Note:**

> A plot what plot (PWP) which means it has a healthy dose of sex. Enjoy!

* * *

“Happiness, not in another place but this place…not for another hour, but this hour.” – Walt Whitman

* * *

The pub was full of the after-work crowd. Men in suits sitting in front of pints, lining the bar, groups of co-eds having a laugh at the full tables throughout the pub, and Bridget Westfall at the end of the bar, watching it all. She was always struck by the diversity of a good pub. Today there were the requisite sad men, drowning their sorrows, boisterous footy fans watching the game, co-workers bonding over a shitty day at work, and even a few one night stands eager for last call. It was loud, bustling, and completely opposite of intimate. It certainly was not the wine bar scene she was used to, but there was wine and the glass that she sipped, quenched a need right then.

Her fingers toyed with the edge of her drink’s napkin and she sighed.

A body slid between her and the suit beside her and patted the bar. “Bartender,” a familiar voice said. “I’d like a pint.”

Bridget turned to find a stunning brunette waiting for the bartender to pull her pint. “You look thirsty,” she said.

“You have no idea,” the brunette replied.

“Helluva week,” she exhaled, nodding.

“The worst,” she agreed. “Franky Doyle,” she held out a hand.

Taking her hand and squeezing it gently, she replied. “Bridget Westfall.”

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“Not anymore.” She smiled.

A slow smile spread across Franky’s face, dimples creasing her cheeks. “Can I get you another?” She motioned to Bridget’s near-empty wine glass.

Bridget's eyes smiled back. “I’d like that.”

Franky raised her arm again to alert the bartender to their needs. “You wanna get a table?”

Bridget scanned the room, but there were no empty tables. “Sure, but…”

Franky patted the bar and dropped money on the bar and turned to scamper away. “Hold that thought.”

Bridget looked after the tall brunette, watching as she approached a couple in the corner who appeared to be preparing to leave. She could tell from her body language that Franky was charming them for their table. When Franky looked back at her and waved her over, Bridget finished the last gulp in her glass and carried the other through the crowd to the booth by the toilets.

Bridget smiled at the pair that scooted out of the booth ahead of her and she sat across from Franky. She lifted the wine glass to her lips, sipping from it quietly. 

“I haven’t seen you in here before.”

“No,” Bridget looked into her glass as if divining an answer. “But it’s shade better than a hotel bar.”

Franky drank from her pint and smirked. “Let me guess, that’s not your scene either.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong.” She smiled slyly.

“You’re a cagey one, aren’t ya?”

Bridget chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“How would you put it, then?”

“You say ‘cagey,’ I say protective.”

Franky feigned shock. “Mmm, mysterious.”

She chortled. “What brings  _ you  _ here?”

Franky lifted her pint and smiled. “I needed a drink.”

“Hmm…” She peered at Franky over her wine glass. 

“So, Bridget, is it?” Franky grinned. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself.”

She smirked. “I like reading, long walks along the beach, and the company of a beautiful woman.”

Franky’s dimples revealed themselves again. “Well, it sounds to me like we have a lot in common.”

“I thought you might say that.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure. I feel as though we’ve met before.”

“I’m sure I would have remembered that.” Franky’s eyes sparkled.

Bridget hummed, sipping the garnet-colored wine in her glass. “Me too.”

“Oh, ho,” Franky laughed at Bridget’s cockiness. “I like it.”

A sly smile from the blonde was her only reply.

Franky’s eyes narrowed. “I was thinking… if this isn’t your scene… maybe you’d like to show me what actually is up to the challenge.”

Bridget chuckled. “I’d rather take you home.”

“My, my, my…” Franky took a long drink from her glass, draining it.

Bridget watched her, sipping her wine demurely. “Eager beaver.”

“That’s me,” Franky grinned. 

She swirled the liquid one last time before finishing it. “I’m a fan.” 

Franky never took her eyes off Bridget, devouring every inch of her as they sat there. The intensity of the pub seemed to ratchet up a notch just then. “Shall we?”

Franky stood, extending a hand to her. She pulled Bridget through the crowded pub, weaving between tables and dodging waitresses and their trays full of drinks and half-priced appetizers. When they got to street level, Franky’s arm stretched across her waist. Bridget turned in her arms and stole a kiss.

When she pulled away, they were both smiling. “I missed you today,” Bridget said quietly.

Franky held her waist and swayed with her. “Shh…” She pressed a finger against Bridget’s lips. 

They were playing a game and Bridget had broken character, something Franky never did. She kissed the finger away and nodded. “C’mon.” 

Since the start of their relationship, Bridget had gradually loosened her grip on the practicalities. She shared her home and all its charms with Franky, and her work was decentralized in her life as they began to spend more time together until it was hard to separate where her routine began and Franky’s ended. Franky still occasionally stayed at the bedsit when her job would require an early morning or late evening, but for the most part she lived with Bridget.

Fridays, however, were a shared delusion. The end of the week was always marked by meeting in a pub or wine bar for a drink or two, and sometimes appetizers. There, they would unburden themselves with tales of work and woe before driving home together. Sometimes, like tonight when the week had been too real, they’d roleplay until the novelty wore off, but Bridget would always end the evening in Franky’s arms. It had been a long time since Bridget had someone she enjoyed as much as Franky. For all that they shouldn’t have in common, there was plenty that they did agree on.

They walked hand in hand to the parking garage. On a different weekend Franky might’ve used the opportunity to back her up against a cool concrete pillar and kiss her until all rational thought had receded. She felt a twinge remembering the last time Franky had slipped her hand beneath her skirt and shook her foundations in an alley. Tonight however, Franky stayed close, but there was an air of restraint that Bridget had not experienced from her before. 

Sliding into Bridget’s silver Volkswagon, Bridget adjusted her seatbelt and radio before pulling out onto the roadway. Watching Franky decompress on the drive was something that Bridget had grown accustomed to. These late Friday nights that were marked by meeting for a drink, sometimes with the theatre of roleplay, but it wasn’t relied upon to keep things fresh. However, there was an added bit of excitement that came with each time Franky agreed to come home with her.

Once, and only once, did they go to the bedsit. Franky’s little bed groaned with effort as they made love, and afterwards, she wrapped Bridget in a quilt and they watched fireworks explode by the waterfront from the front window of her unit. It wasn’t a bad experience by any stretch of the imagination, Bridget remembered, but when it came down to it, they were just more comfortable at Bridget’s. Franky had even admitted that Bridget’s house felt more like home than her own space did and that’s what prompted the move more than anything else.

Franky stared out the window as they made the drive home. She was a million miles away and Bridget knew Franky had a rough week, but she also knew that Franky needed to process things herself before they spoke about them--Bridget had learned that before they’d even gotten together.

Tonight, however, Franky turned her face away from the window to watch Bridget as she steered them home. Bridget could feel the weight of her gaze upon her without looking in her direction. 

“What’s on your mind?” Bridget asked, without so much as a glance in Franky’s direction.

Franky grunted. “Wondering how I managed all this,” she said stifling a laugh.

Bridget hummed quietly. It was an instinctual response of a therapist when she heard something interesting, but it was a response that she knew Franky hated. 

“Gidge?” 

“Yeah, baby?”

“Did you ever imagine we’d end up like this?”

“Like what? Happy? In love? Together?”

“All of it.”

Bridget smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Even when I was up on two murder charges?”

Silence filled the car, save the whooshing of traffic from the opposite direction. “Franky…” Bridget smiled weakly. “There’s no comfort to be found in what ifs, baby.”

“I dunno. Maybe there is,” she replied. “We’re here, aren’t we? The most unlikely outcome of them all.”

Bridget smiled. Slowing the car, she turned down a familiar street, and stopped in the drive in front of her house. The engine cut off and she turned to look at Franky, whose big green eyes were full of confusion. It was rare to see Franky with her defenses down, but the darkened interior of her small VW might have been the safest place for Franky to express her dismay.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Franky broke from her haze and met her gaze. “Sometimes a little perspective is good. You said that once.”

Bridget nodded. She didn’t remember the instance that she had said that to Franky, but didn’t doubt that she had. It sounded like something she’d say and if it stuck with Franky, how could she argue with the message?

Leaning across the center console, Franky reached for her and Bridget met her in the middle. She tasted of barley and hops--the remnants of the lager she drank at the bar. Their kiss was a soft promise of things to come, but also an affirmation of where they had been before. Franky’s hand stroked her cheek and Bridget shivered. 

Breaking away, she rolled her forehead against Franky’s. “Let’s go inside.”

* * *

Inside, Franky followed her closely, and it did not escape Bridget that her need was obvious. Some work weeks were longer than others despite the number of days remaining the same. And on weeks that dragged on like the last week had, they took respite in each other’s company on the weekends.

Bridget smiled as Franky kicked off her boots, making herself at home as only Franky could. She was clicking down the hallway to the bedroom when Franky caught up with her. Her arms snaked around Bridget’s waist, stopping her in her tracks, her lips brushing the whorls of her ear as she spoke. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Bridget let her head fall back onto Franky’s shoulder as she began to kiss Bridget’s throat. She reached behind her, plunging hands deep into her dark hair. She turned in Franky’s arms and pressed her palms against Franky’s cheeks--an act of pure adoration--as if to hold her in her hands as a precious and irreplaceable piece of herself. Smoky, smiling eyes met hers and love’s swell flooded her chest, a tidal wave of warmth buzzing through her veins. Bridget felt an unparalleled need to be closer to her and pulled her cashmere sweater over her head, dropping it on the floor before her hands began pulling Franky’s plaid shirt from her shoulders. 

Franky leaned forward capturing her lips again as Bridget’s hands continued to pull at the tank top tucked into her skinny jeans. Together, they fumbled with buttons and zippers as they undressed each other in the hallway. Franky fell back against the wall heavily as she picked Bridget up off the ground. Bridget’s legs hooked behind Franky’s thighs as she lifted her up and kissed her deeply.

Their reunion was made after a week of hardships and revelations that Franky would rather not speak of, but Bridget knew that these moments were a time capsule of their love. Clinging to Franky as she carried her toward the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing in their wake, Bridget captured her lips again as Franky fell back onto the bed. 

Straddling her hips, Bridget loomed above the younger woman. Franky gripped her waist and grinned up at her. Her eyes sparkled and Bridget knew that she was clearly past whatever was bothering her in the car and ready for the next inevitable portion of their evening.

Franky sat up abruptly, nestling against Bridget’s breasts as she hugged her tightly against her body. Rarely was Franky as demonstrative as she was on this night. That’s not to say that sex with Franky was impersonal, on the contrary, usually it was a wide open affair. Above all, sex with Franky was  _ fun _ . Bridget had never laughed as much as she had with Franky in the first few months of their relationship. 

As things unfurled, Franky’s love was intense and unending. She took great pride in their relationship and treated these moments as sacred meetings of their minds and bodies. Bridget wasn’t used to having a lover so intent on pleasing her as Franky always was, but tonight Bridget was determined to take the lead.

She lifted Franky’s chin from against her chest and brushed the hair from her face. Gently pushing Franky back against the pillows once again, Bridget inched down her body. Leaning up on her elbows, Franky kept her eyes trained on Bridget as she moved lower to cover her with her mouth. 

Bridget kept a keen eye on Franky’s reaction as she made love to her. The ebb and flow of her desire was intoxicating, each moan and groan tested Bridget’s own willpower. But she did not meet Franky’s quiet demands expeditiously, rather she purposely teased them both and when she finally climaxed a fine sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, her muscles taught in the moonlight.

Resting her forearm against her forehead, Franky’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. “You’re too much.” She laughed at the ceiling. “Come here.”

Bridget kissed the curve of Franky’s belly as she crawled up her body to enjoy her afterglow. The satisfied smile that adorned her cheeks was precious currency. Franky’s arm encircled her and pulled her closer. Bridget hummed at her nearness, smiling into the nape of Franky’s neck. These were the moments Bridget enjoyed most, the intimacy foraged between orgasms with Franky when she was unguarded and at her most honest, when everything was instinct and nothing had to be pondered.

So deep in thought was Bridget that she was ill-prepared for Franky rolling over her and kissing her deeply. When she pulled away, Bridget bit her lip, savoring what once was. She watched as Franky thoughtfully threaded her fingers with her own, before insinuating herself between Bridget’s legs, and pressing herself against her core.

She inhaled sharply at the pressure and when Franky started to move her hips all clarity of thought ceased to exist. Delicious friction was the only thing on her mind as Franky undulated against her. Knowing she was more than ready, Franky wasted little time teasing her and pressed against her roughly. She watched Franky’s tongue dart out of her mouth as she bit her lip in appreciation. Bridget tried to keep her eyes on Franky, but they slipped closed in appreciation of Franky’s efforts.

Franky loved to watch her. She studied the cause and effect of Bridget’s reactions as a student of her body. Tonight it lent itself to her growing arousal and, leaning down, Franky captured her lips. Franky was controlled chaos and for all Bridget’s orderliness, she craved Franky’s way.

Bridget was caught up in the sweeping caresses across her back, the soft rocking of Franky against her, and her slow kiss. When Franky’s other hand slid between their bodies, Bridget’s hips jumped. Lithe fingers teased her tenderly and all coherent thought was lost. Franky’s fingers circled with desperate precision and Bridget clung to her, pressing her cheek to Franky’s bony shoulder. 

And when her release came, there was an explosion of colors behind her eyelids, her body arching up as Franky leaned back, pressing herself firmly against Bridget as her hips rocked uncontrollably. She cried out, trembling as she held Franky tightly.

Falling forward onto her hands, Franky rolled onto her side with Bridget, holding her quietly. The calm that settled over them after lovemaking was almost as good as the release itself. Love hormones flooded her brain and Bridget was blind to anything else.

Lifting her head as her breathing slowed, Bridget studied her lover’s face. Franky raised her eyebrows, questioning her without words. But Bridget did not speak, choosing instead to silently express gratitude. 

The long and winding course of their relationship had never been easy, but the journey had only made these moments that much more special. The glow of the moon illuminated the bedroom as Bridget stretched languidly in the blue light. 

“I fuckin’ love Fridays.” Franky grinned at the ceiling and Bridget laughed.

Franky was right, Fridays made the rest of the work week bearable. And Franky spending the entirety of the weekend with her nestled amongst the duvet and pillow shams was something that was not only finally possible but preferable to Bridget. Resting quietly in Franky’s arms was a simple pleasure that Bridget refused to complicate. It was Friday, and that was enough.

* * *

Fin.


End file.
